


the sharpest curves, the softest edges

by ashley_in_the_know



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 20:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashley_in_the_know/pseuds/ashley_in_the_know
Summary: Logically, Percy knows that spontaneous combustion is highly improbable, but with Vex in his lap, dragging a razor across his skin with the utmost delicacy, logic has abandoned him entirely.





	the sharpest curves, the softest edges

He’s going to combust.

That’s the singular thought on repeat in his brain right now. That, and willing himself to not, ah, give himself away, so to speak, while Vex straddles him.

Logically, Percy knows that spontaneous combustion is highly improbable, but with Vex in his lap, dragging a razor across his skin with the utmost delicacy, logic has abandoned him entirely.

He’s been in some state of discomfort or other since stepping foot into Pyrah. It’s _hot_ , the kind of stifling, makes it hard to breathe heat that had never plagued Whitestone, even in the hottest of summers. The Plane of Fire had been, naturally, even worse, and while he would gladly follow Keyleth to the ends of Exandria, he’s not upset that this particular bit of her Aramente is nearly over.

Vox Machina had emerged from the Fire Plane relatively unscathed; a few burns here, a few bumps and bruises there, some ash in the lungs. Nothing they couldn’t handle. Percy’s facial hair hadn’t been so lucky. His carefully manicured scruff was in ruins; patchy and singed and itchy to boot. A lack of proper mirrors had prevented him from fixing it immediately, and he’d spent a good deal of dinner rubbing at his face and scowling ( _not_ pouting, thank you very much. He was a de Rolo, and de Rolos did not _pout_.).

Vex had finally interrupted Percy with a roll of her eyes, and an exasperated, “That’s it, inside with me, _now_.” before grabbing him and his pack, and hauling him into the nearest empty building.

“I beg your pardon,” he manages, as she manhandles him into a chair and tilts his head back so that it's resting on a table, “but what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m fixing this,” Vex replies, trailing fingers over his cheek, “so you don’t spend the entire trip back to Vasselheim pouting.”

He jerks his head up to protest. “I was not-”

“You were pouting, darling,” she says, lacing fingers in his hair and tugging his head back down, gently. “Now, hold still. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, and I’d rather not slit your throat.”

He manages to stay still as she applies his shaving balm, but can’t stop himself squirming with the first drag of the razor against his cheek. There's a catch, a sharp pain, and the familiar trickle of blood. She curses, and he feels a spark of warmth flow from her fingertips. Healing magic. He raises an eyebrow. _That's_ new.

“Our little secret,” she says, and he can hear the wink in her voice. She brings the razor back to his skin, and he fidgets, causing another catch, another cut. “Shit.” A third attempt. A third trickle of blood. “Gods _damnit_ , Percy.”

She steps back momentarily, studies him. She lets out a little huff, clearly irritated. There’s a beat. Two. Three. And then, “Fuck it,” and she’s climbing into his lap, holding him down with the press of her pelvis into his as she cradles his face in her hands.

He sputters. “Vex...what...”

She sighs as she looks down at him. “It’s this, or I bring someone else in here to hold you still.” She holds the razor up, vaguely threatening with the drip of his blood down the metal. “Again, _so I don’t kill you_.”

Percy swallows, wills himself to relax under the weight of her, closer than she’s ever been outside of his fantasies. “This is fine,” he lies. “I’m fine.”

“Good boy,” she coos, settling more fully into his lap, and _fuck, shit, this is_ not _fine._

He whines, and she pauses, razor held against his cheek. “Is everything alright, dear?”

He schools himself, pushes down the tremble in his voice. “Fine. I’m fine,” he says. “Just a little...hot.” It’s not exactly a lie. He’s burning up, can feel the flush all the way from his collar to his scalp. It just has nothing to do with the environment.

“Alright,” she says, a little uncertain. “Warn me if you think you’re about to pass out.”

He’s not entirely sure he’s still conscious at this point, but he nods before laying his head back and closing his eyes, giving her permission to start again.

She works quietly, efficiently, and he’s a little surprised at how steady her hands are, how gentle.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs when she takes a moment to wipe hair and lather from the razor.

She hums. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

_That_ is a shock. “Really?” he asks. “I can’t imagine that Vax...”

Vex snorts, and he can feel her shake with laughter. “Oh gods, no,” she says, giggling. “My brother couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it. No, I...I had a lover,” she says softly, and his stomach shoots into his throat. “Back when Vax and I were living in Kymal. Before Stillben. Before...all of this.”

“He was a good man,” she says as she moves to the other side of his face. “But he was terribly vain, and _very_ particular about his facial hair. I’d do this for him, every few days or so. It became a kind of foreplay, if you can believe it,” she says with a small chuckle.

_I can believe it,_ he thinks. “What became of him?” is what he allows to leave his mouth.

“Dead,” she says, matter of fact. “He was also terribly naive. Got in over his head with the Clasp, and well...” She’s quiet for a minute. “We didn’t stay in Kymal for long after that.”

Before he can think of something to say, she’s moved down to his throat, and he’s choking on air. He’s never considered shaving to be particularly erotic before, but he knows he’ll never be able to look at a straight razor the same way ever again. He mulls it over as Vex works, and he boils it down to the _trust_ implicit in letting someone run a sharp instrument over your most vulnerable parts.

Alternatively, it could just be that Vex is straddling his lap and tugging on his hair and talking about _foreplay_ and...

“All done,” she announces brightly, and a cool, damp cloth is being run over his face and neck.

Vex vacates Percy’s lap, and he sits up fully, rolling his head a couple of times to relieve the tension. He runs a hand over his face instinctively and Vex smirks. “Is that better?” she teases.

The smile he gives her is sincere. “Much better. Thank you.”

She plants a kiss on his freshly shaven cheek. “Anytime,” she says. There’s a wicked gleam in her eyes when she pulls away that tells him she knows _exactly_ where his mind had gone. And, judging by the fact that his manhood was still intact, that had been part of her plan all along.

_Two can play at that game._ He snags the hand that’s reaching up to caress his face, kisses the inside of her wrist, feels the hammer of her pulse under his lips. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Her eyes widen, then darken, and the grin she gives him as she backs out of the room is absolutely _feral_. “I never do.”


End file.
